The IB strikes again

I've taken to blaming the "Infertility Bitch" for all the stupid and unnecessary things that happen along this journey. For instance - IB took the blame when IVF failed and not even 2 hours later a baby shower invite showed up in my mailbox...then I had to trudge my pitiful ass out to the baby department for a gift. IB struck again the time I was going in for yet another failed preggo test and I stopped at the grocery store on my way home...just as they were installing the "stork parking" sign. Seriously - I go to the grocery store maybe twice a month...and I just happen to be there on that day? IB strikes again. And let's not forget the time I had finally mustered up the courage to visit a good friend in the maternity ward and ON THE WAY THERE, J gets a call on his cell phone from a friend announcing they're pregnant. Chalk another one for IB. OR, the ever impressive due date: my brother and his pregnant-cigarette-smokin' wife's due date is our anniversary. I mean really, IB has some talent.

So here's a new one. And I'm glad that I have such a creative opponent as IB. Really, she keeps me on my toes, because this one takes the cake. Well, it takes a few things...

Our next door neighbors (who by the way, got pregnant the second the moved in the same city as our non-baby-havin asses), had their kid Saturday night. Or at least at this point we assume they've had the baby since there have been "It's a Boy!" balloons sitting on their front porch for a few days. Awesome for them. Super happy, really (really!). So tonight after dinner J and I decide to take the dog on a walk. We bump into another neighbor and get to chatting, and while we're out there the new papa shows up and pulls into the driveway. He comes over - beaming - tells us all about the new addition - couldn't be more excited. Very cute.

After a few minutes it occurs to me that we have no idea what the kid's name is, so I ask.

...Wait for it as IB rears her wicked, malicious head...

The baby's name is Jackson. I whip my head around towards J and he has this gutted look on his face as he eeks out "You took our name." There was actually a split second where I thought he was going to cry - or be sick. Or maybe it was just that I wanted to cry AND be sick.

Our neighbor (who knows nothing about our situation and that we've been sitting on this name for 11 years) says: "Oh don't worry - we spell it: J-a-x-s-o-n."

So they stole our name. And THEN they stripper-fied it.

IB, my hat is off to you, I did not see that coming.

You see, this name has a fabulous story behind it for us. It's like one of those truly hilarious inside jokes that I could never explain in a million years. Or if I did, you wouldn't get it. When J and I first started dating, one of my friends (who hadn't yet met J) nicknamed him "Jackson". He was expecting some preppy golfing plaid pants wearing dude. Well, actually, J IS a preppy golf playing dude, but that wasn't the point. These two guys ended up being really good friends, and we all still joke about him calling J Jackson. The "Jackson" calling went on for almost a year and J had no idea. Which of course made it funnier.

See? It's a really stupid story. But if you're one of the insiders to the inside joke, it's f-ing hilarious. And it was one of our very first goofy things as a couple. Well, it wasn't "one of our first", it really WAS the first.

You know what - fuck it. Our neighbors just better move in the next 50 years that it takes us to get pregnant. We're bustin' out Jackson...sans the stripper X.

Varicose Seal

...is the diagnosis that J received from the doctor today. Five years of infertility and nobody ever referred us to a urologist. How frickin' annoying.

The doctor examined him said he has a "varicose seal". Which - in my 30 seconds of googling appears to be a varicose vein that is cutting off his dudes, and can back things up enough to raise the temperate in the Dude Cave enough to damage ongoing dudes. Something like that...I need to do some more research on it. But apparently surgery would open it back up.

The doc says he wants J to have another sperm analysis done. The first analysis was VERY low (like 2,000 working dudes). The second analysis showed about 2 million dudes, but only about 200k working. So there was quite a descrepancy between the two tests. If this next test comes back and it's on the 2k level, there's no point in doing the surgery. But if it's more on par with his second test, then it might be worth it.

Assuming he qualifies after this test, there's about a 1 in 5 chance that it will make a significant difference in his count. Doctor said that even if it does raise it, it's doubtful that we'll be able to conceive naturally (zero times a million still equals zero). BUT...he said it was likely that if it works - it could put us in the IUI range. So basically it would open up more treatment options. He also said that our fertility clinic did us a great injustice by not referring J to a urologist to start with. I think that was 3 (4?) clinics ago...I've lost count...I'm not even sure who I should be pissed at.

So now we just need to figure out if insurance will cover it. J seems to be really excited about this. Which surprises me, because I was thinking, if it's not going to make a big difference, what's the point? But J's thinking seems to be: if it could put us in IUI range, let's do it. Rock on, right?

We're still set for this next IVF cycle - it will start around June 1st. We're already paid for the next 2 cycles, so we're going to go ahead with it.

J's going to go ahead with his semen analysis. But we may push the surgery back just to see if the next 2 ncivf cycles will work. Or if they can get him in for surgery quickly (after this next ivf cycle), then he may go ahead with it. Not sure...still up in the air. But it's kind of nice to know that ncivf #5 isn't a last option anymore...oh my GOD we could be talking about IUI's...that sounds like a day at the spa.

The "it will all work out" guy...

I've been drinking too much recently (including at this very moment - a Sunday night when I should definitely be thinking about going to be early -without waking up fuzzy-headed tomorrow). I learned tonight (thanks, and UNthanks to the alcohol) that my husband doesn't think about "what if this doesn't work."

I don't know why I find this disturbing enough to dedicate a post to. I guess because I think about it. A lot. Probably more than I think about "how wonderful it would be if it DID work."

Maybe that's why we work together - he thinks positively, I cover all the "what if" scenarios. I guess it's always been that way. I am without a doubt the worrier, he is the ever optimistic (if very annoying) "it will all work out" guy.

It's probably the alcohol in the first place that allows us to even fathom the conversation of "what if"...but it also seems to be the conversation that starts the ever infamous argument: "why do you think of that" / "why don't you think of that" - outcome.

Here's some background (strictly MY perspective of course): I recently got turned on to Link TV. In a nutshell, it's a news channel (that also does documentaries, cultural music shows) with perspectives from inside foreign countries - Cuba, Germany, Middle East...etc.. I have no idea how I've been missing out on this station from my Direct TV lineup all this time, but I have.

I flipped it on the other day and ooooh'ed and aaaah'ed over a 30 minute news clip about Barack Obama's family in Kenya. A tiny portion of the piece centered around a school in Kenya that they dedicated to him. It's called (of course): The Senator Barack Obama Primary School. There was a kid in the school who looked to be around 16 or so that spoke perfect English and said he dreamed of having the opportunity of coming to the U.S. and studying to be a doctor so he could support his family back home.

Like flipping a switch I had a bit of an epiphany. Well, maybe not an epiphany, but maybe a moment that made me stop and think: "Jesus, K, there are a zillion things in this world that are worse than not having a child."

Excuse my pure liberal dribble, but when I was 16, I certainly was not dreaming about becoming a doctor - much less planning out my career in order to support my family. Hell, I was barely thinking about college. In my mind, college wasn't even something that - other than picking a school - I needed to worry about. It wasn't that my parents were rich (quite the opposite), but it was always assumed that "they would find a way." Not that I intentionally took that fact for granted, but the idea of college was always kind of assumed when I grew up....I would pick a college...I would go. My only real decision to make was "what would I major in" / "what would my profession be." To be honest, in my mind, cost was kind of a secondary factor.

And (to clear the air), I'm not a total idiot. Yes, I know there are millions and millions of people in the world that simply did not grow up with the idea of college - that an education like that was financially out of the question. It seems stupid that somebody 30 years old (me!) would finally and suddenly be affected by the fact (per one 30 minute news clip) that these people are really out there. So it's not the realization that they actually exist. It just suddenly struck me that here's a 16 year old kid who TRULY knows the importance (as in life or death) of success...of ambition, of drive. And all he needs is someone to put forth the faith in him - take a chance on him to make this happen...for him to become a doctor so he can support his family.

Drum Roll, please......

Then I started thinking about all the money (all the fucking money) we have blown (and I mean seriously thrown the fuck away) in order to have a child. I thought about how important it is to us. And why it's important to us. And it is selfish? And it is a waste? And could it be spent in ways that could REALLY make a difference in the world? And what is it that drives us to keep spending this money? Could I live my life (without regret) without having kids? Could my husband live his life (without regret) without having kids? And what if this entire infertility journey has just to been to take us to a place where we find ourselves ok with not having kids? What if my inability to withstand repeated IVF attempts was just to break me down and force me to explore other options that I never would've considered without the pain of the last few years?

I'm not a religious person at all. If I'm being honest, I'm 90 percent athesist, with a 10 percent chance of "what if". In conversation I define myself as "agnostic"...a very generic way of saying "hell if I know what's out there - but I'm not against the idea of there not being anything out there." The closest I get to going to church is doing yoga, or practicing a quick meditation on Saturday morning.

But there is a very big part of me that thinks things happen for a reason. I don't mean that it makes sense - or it's fair - that we can't have kids. I do, however, spend a lot of time recently thinking maybe this really is more about the journey than the outcome. Maybe us having kids doesn't even matter. For my own personal journey - it's figuring out if I can live my live without kids without turning into a bitter person (my mother) who chases away all her fertile friends, or sits around feeling sorry for herself. Maybe it's just finding out if my husband and I can survive repeated failures (which at this point I don't think we can, I know we can). Maybe it's something bigger like - turning me into a person who can overcome her fear of adoption and raise someone else's child who could turn around and save the world. Maybe it's smaller - we get sick of a quiet house, so we rescue shelter animals. Maybe all of it is completely random and irrelevant - maybe we really DO live out our lives sleeping in on Saturdays with our coffees and newspapers, no sound of little giggles in front of Saturday morning cartoons. Or maybe this mess is all some great Karmic test to see if we can create good out of something horribly bad....

Hence, this entirely long druken post....

The kid from the Obama news clip.

My thought (that I'm seeing way into the future and my husband hasn't even begun to consider yet): instead of throwing our money away...if we DO get to the point where we've decided that "enough is enough" and we've given up on IVF...I want to do something good. I want to start a charity...or I want to ship some kid over from god-knows-where, let them live in our house while they get their PhD, go on to support their families back in the homelands...or I want to spend all this IVF money on food for local food pantries...or I want to who knows what....

All I know is we've made shit-loads of sacrifices for children we are starting to not even be able to imagine having. It would seem crazy to "move on" from IVF and not do something amazing with that money that we're already used to not having. Somehow honor the children that we won't have - honor the little bits of life that we created...change lives that already exist....

It's just that I know if the next 2 cycles don't work and if I don't find myself something extremely proactive to do for my fellow man (or 4-legged friend), this may consume me. I don't want it to consume me. If this doesn't work, I will need something important and meaningful to keep my head above water. I know that in a handful of months, if cycle 4 doesn't work, and cycle 5 doesn't work...we're left empty-handed. With no new options. That's why I need to plan ahead. Because the idea of Cycle Six sounds asinine. It seems selfish. It seems stupid. If it hasn't worked by number 5, how can it ever? And if we're going on that idea, we're more than halfway done with this journey. We're running out of next cycles.

It's time to start reaching within and seeing what else it is that we pull out besides foolish hopefullness, biological desperation and irrational optimism. I've been more than lost in this for more than a few years, and it's past time I started thinking of more than the life I always thought I'd have and came to grips with the life I actually have. And the biggest part of that is realizing that the life I actually have can be the life I always thought it would.

The day after yesterday

I'm not gonna lie - I threw myself a pretty hefty pity party on the drive home yesterday. J and I were in separate cars (which sucked), but I had a good 4 hours to cry it all out, talk out loud to myself (yes, I do that a lot), and generally gut myself of the gunk. No doubt everyone who passed me on the interstate hit the accelerater a little harder for fear I'd run them off the road.

It was a good detoxing drive. I saw a documentary once on post traumic stress syndrome comparing modern day soldiers and soldiers from WWI. How soldiers from WWI assimilated back into everyday life much easier than they do today. The reason: WWI military were sent back to the U.S. on huge cargo ships carrying hundreds or thousands of other troops who had just experienced the same traumatic experiences. They sometimes had weeks on these ships before reaching home - sitting around talking it all out, bonding over awful events. By the time they made it home, they had basically spent weeks in 24-hour-a-day therapy.

That was my drive home - I got it all out. Then I got home and I got the wine out.

This morning I woke up feeling a lot better. My ass is still sore from the damn Novarel injection, but I was rested and my mind was at ease. This was a lot easier than going through a month of injections, or waiting 2 weeks for a pregnancy test wondering if the embryos lived or died.

Not that I'm 100% smiles and sunshine right now - the fear of "will this ever work" buzzes louder and louder in the back of our heads each time a cycle goes south. I spent some time yesterday flirting with the Unfairness Factor: the most obvious - my 23 year old sister-in-law pregnant with her 2nd with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth - seriously...don't get me started. Or debating The Big Karmic Screw: "What the hell did WE do so wrong...?". Or the general questions of the century: "Holy-shit-can-a-sistah-catch-a-break?" and "Will-we-ever-have-money-again?".

For the most part I'm feeling pretty even-keel. The worse sacrifice I really made was a total lack of sleep and daily pokes for blood work. Sucks that I have to do it again, but I'll live. Our energy for generating Hope-On-Demand is a bit beaten, but we always seem to pull that off at the last minute.

So...goodbye Cycle #3. Maybe it's FOUR time's a charm.

10%

So you know that 90% egg retrival rate the clinic has? Yeah - we're in the 10%. I ovulated before my retrival this morning.
We're packing up to go home.
We'll try again in June.

A Series of Ridiculous Events

Well, my trigger was last night. It didn't exactly go smoothly. So here's a story for you:

As I have mention - holy hell I am exhausted. I'm getting by on hours a night, I'm in early morning doc appointments, I'm working, I'm sitting in traffic, I'm visiting friends/fam. I am tired. I am dragging. And I am not drinking caffeine (well, since last week anyway).

So, last night all my aunts, uncles, cousins came over to my grandparent's house (where I'm staying) and we had a cookout. Normally I would be right in the mix of things - hanging out and catching up. Instead - I snuck off for a nap. And when I woke up I felt so tired I thought I'd be sick. But - I powered through...chugged down some lime water and a veggie burger and even managed to open my eyes for about an hour.

Everybody left around 8:30 and J and I headed up to bed around 10. We had considered staying away until my trigger at 12:45, but instead thought it would be smarter to get a few hours sleep, then wake up for my injection. We set the alarm for 12:30 and hit the hay. Then I got paranoid about the alarm not going off. So in addition to the clock, I set the alarm on my cell phone and had J set the alarm on his phone.

Three alarms are set for 12:30. I have no idea what happened, but my phone and my alarm did not go off. J's phone went off - but at 1:15am. How in the world that happened, neither of us can figure. All I remember is being dead asleep and hearing J yell "Holy shit! Get up! Get up! We're late for your shot!"

So we jump up - turn on the light. I'm shaking because I'm so upset. I'm almost in tears. J's half hysterical and yelling at me to mix the Novarel. I practically broke off the needle in the bottle trying to get it ready. I was a mess.

I get the injection ready and ask J how he wants to do this - me standing up, or me laying on my stomach. Of course I'm laying on my stomach when I ask him this and I've got the target-zone in plain view - ass out ready to go. I turn towards him to ask if this position is ok - I'm half asleep and my arm swings out and I clock him in the face. Hard. I mean Chuck Norris karate chop to the temple hard. J jumps up (still weilding the needle) grabbing his head - never before heard cuss words spewing from his mouth. Really, he's quite creative. He's also now mad as a bee.

I've just clocked my husband in the head and he has yet to give me this injection. Not my best move.

As I mentioned - I've got the shocked-out-of-a-deep-sleep-shakes, and a mad husband with an intramuscular needle coming my way. Ow. And between the two of our twitchy selves, he must've hit a blood veseel or something...I now have blood running down me. It swelled almost instantly and within 5 minutes I had a bruise.

But the shot is done. It's now 35 minutes late, but it's done.

Now it's my job to go back to sleep. But all I can think about is - at our last clinic - if you were more than 5 minutes late with the HcG, they would push back your harvesting. There was no give. So I'm now a mess thinking that despite the shot...this cycle's going to be canceled because of our technical difficulties. I think I fell asleep around 4am. And of course we were up at 6 and out the door for this morning's appointment.

Today's ultrasound: Follicle is at 21mm. I'm told around 23-24mm is when you ovulate. So it looks like I'm perfectly on schedule. I've had a dull ache in my abdomen all day. My fingers are triple crossed that I don't ovulate before my harvesting tomorrow. Right now it's my only fear.

I feel so, so good about this cycle though. I really feel like this will work. I just have to get through tomorrow. Once that egg's in the lab, I'm going to be feeling really confident (I hope not foolishly).

Last night during the cookout, my uncle told me he had a dream a few nights ago. I was pregnant. And I was smoking. He quit tobacco last week, so hopefully that's where the smoking came from (HA! Me? Smoking? And while pregnant? Right....). So I'm just going to focus on the fact that he dreamed I was pregnant. And the only reason I'm getting the slightest bit excited about that (and don't judge my craziness), is that he's know for this weird link with...I don't know...something. He's had dreams that came true (told people beforehand), he has the incredibly uncanny ability to attract wild animals. Literally - squirrels come up to him and allow him to pet them, a deer even adopted him one summer. It's bizarre. So...I'm going with my uncle's premonition. I'm getting pregnant. Um...however, I won't be smoking.

Alright - early day tomorrow. Harvesting is at 10:45...but I have to be there early to down some valium and antibiotics...oh and to beat a fabulous Monday morning DC traffic mess.

Wish me luck

Survey Says!

HARVESTING IS MONDAY! 10:45am. Which means I am triggering tonight at 12:45am. Oy. These people do not care that I haven't slept in weeks.

After my appointment, I spent the afternoon visiting my grandmother. She's almost 91 with Alzheimer's. God what a shitty, shitty disease. She also suffers from osteoporosis. She fell out of bed about a week and a half ago and broke her leg. This is the second time in about 6 months. Poor thing is a mess. She's on bedrest for 6 weeks. I just felt awful for her. She was in a pretty good mood and had a good deal of sense about her (it's very in and out), but she was very antsy. Who wouldn't be? One day of bedrest and I'm out of my mind and my back kills me. She's 11 days into bedrest and still in a good mood. I would most definitely be throwing things at people.

It was a good visit overall, I'm not entirely sure she knew exactly who I was (my name/relation), but she definitely remembered she was comfortable with me. There was about a 5 minute span where she even asked about J - so at least then she definitely knew me for a few.

Ugh...Alzheimer's sucks. I have always been very close to both my grandmothers. On the bright side though, she has led this truly amazing life. And 91 years - I hope I've inherited the longevity.

The best part of waking up

J and I went to the doc appointment together this morning. Blood work and ultrasounds. Man, I am sick of blood work.

Follicle is up to 19mm. The doc says 90% chance that my harvesting will be Monday...but they want to wait on my labs to be sure. They'll call this afternoon and let me know for sure.

Surprise

Lab results came back in and it looks like the harvesting is going to be Monday. I didn't fight it - my hormone levels were still on the low side. So all my faith is riding on this dude...and I'm feeling pretty good about it.

I took a half day from work - left the office around 11:30. Got out of DC on a beautiful day - a quick drive past the cherry trees, which still blooms on them. Although when I drove past (which the help of a little breeze), it looked like snow. Makes me miss DC in the Spring. Windows open, people flying kites on the mall, tourists with their noses in maps, horse and carriage rides. Ahhhh....

Got to my grandparent's house around 1 - had a little lunch. And Jeffrey - who said he'd be here around 4 - turned out to be a big fat liar and showed up at 2pm. Good surprise...made me cry. So incredibly glad to see him. It's been unbelievably weird doing all this without him. I'm so glad he'll get to go to my appointment with my in the morning - time to get this boy involved...no doubt it feels VERY unreal to him!

I Walk The Line

The little follie (who has already been nicknamed "Lefty") is up to 17.5mm. It's supposed to be between 18 and 20 to be considered mature enough to trigger. So I'm on the line. I'm in the gray area. Do we trigger tonight, harvest Sunday? Or do we wait one day longer - let it mature, but risk ovulation and harvest Monday?

The docs are still mulling it over. They'll make their decision based on my blood work results that should be in by this afternoon.

I have a feeling that if we wait until Monday - it'll be gone. They'll miss it. I'm hoping when they call, they'll tell me Sunday. But if they don't...I'm going to push for Sunday anyway. What do I have to lose?

In other news: I am feeling fabulous. I will never, ever, ever hop back on those stim drugs. In comparison with how I'm feeling right now (totally normal) it really scares me at how screwed up that stuff made me. Terrifies me, actually. My god, I was a nutjob for a good solid 8 months strictly from hormones. Then I was an emotional trainwreck for loads of months afterwards just from the trauma of the whole ordeal. Never again. I'll be singing praises for Natural Cycle from the highest mountaintop even if it doesn't work.

Hell, I think I'm a little in love with my doctor for even offering it.

The Quick Egg

I'm having one of those days where I'm totally in awe of the human body.

I went in for my bloodwork / ultrasound this morning, and that little egg is just growing away. Already I'm at 15mm (mature is between 18 and 20). So the good news is the doc seems to think this cycle is going to go by relatively quickly - less needle pokes, I get to sleep in my own bed sooner. The bad news is the doc seems to think this cycle is going to go by relatively quickly - the faster my body works, the trickier the timing gets.

But all that aside - the egg is growing. I find this the slighest bit amazing. Why you ask? Well because I'm getting by on about 3 hours of sleep a night, I'm so busy between clinic visits, hours of traffic for each one-way leg of my trip and work that I'm actually forgetting to eat. I've been constantly on the go - I'm up at the latest by 4am everyday. I'm wiped. I'm drinking WAY more coffee than I should be (actually, I shouldn't be drinking any). I AM eating healthy (you know - when I remember).

And still - I'm growing an egg. And quickly.
Must be one tough little guy...hopefully it'll stay that way.

Dear Such and Such

You know those excuse notes you would have your parents/doctors write when you were in school?

Dear Such and Such,
My daughter has a sprained ankle, she should not participate in gym this week.
Sincerely,
Mom - or Dr. Whoever

I need one of those notes, man!

Dear Such and Such -
Please excuse K for her social inept-ness for the next two weeks. For her inability to concentrate, respond to simple questions and her miniature mental breakdowns when faced with decisions like: "Paper or plastic?", or "Would you like fries with that?", or "What would you like to drink with dinner?".
She has IVF-head this week. Expect side effects of: extreme anxiety, crying at the drop of a hat, insomnia, exhaustion, and irritation at everything.
Sincerely,
Dr. Charges Too Much

Day 1

Mother Nature has kicked in, and this cycle is officially underway. I called my IVF coordinator this morning, she's supposed to call back and get my order form in to the pharmacy for all my drugs today.

J and I are heading up to DC on Saturday for a wedding - he'll be coming back home on Sunday and I'll be staying there for treatments.

I feel like hell, but man I'm excited! :)